


Holiday Watch

by Alice_Corvin (Zainir)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabbles, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Holidays, M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8857087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zainir/pseuds/Alice_Corvin
Summary: A collection of drabbles of my favorite or popular pairings (romantic and not) related to either the winter holiday time or just winter in general. Just for fun!





	1. Good Ideas

Jesse shut the door quietly behind him and took his hat off. He hung it up on the hook specifically labeled “Jesse’s Ridiculous Hat” to the right of the door. Running his hand through his hair, he smoothed it out as best he could to be presentable. Hanzo was forever complaining about how little effort Jesse seemed to put into his appearance.

“You look ridiculous,” Hanzo said, poking his head out of the kitchen.

“It’s good to see you too, darling,” Jesse teased, smirking as he walked across the apartment. He tucked a carefully wrapped present under his arm.

“That sweater,” Hanzo said, gesturing. “If it was not for the fact it fit you, I’d suspect you raided Lena’s closet for it.”

Jesse looked down at his sweater. It was bright red with three snowmen arranged in a semi-circle, all facing a large inexplicable moon over the left breast. It didn’t make a single bit of sense to Jesse, but it made him laugh all the same.

“Nope, this one is all mine. You’re always saying I should dress nicer, so I thought I’d give it a shot,” Jesse said.

“And that’s what you came up with?” Hanzo asked incredulously. “How many raccoons did you have to fight in the dumpster to claim just a tragic item?”

Jesse laughed loudly at that, noting with pleasure that Hanzo even cracked a smile at his own stupid insult. Jesse set down the gift on the counter and leaned over, attempting to kiss Hanzo on the cheek. Hanzo turned at the last second, catching Jesse’s lips with his own. Jesse exhaled slowly through his nose, relaxing as he touched his hand to Hanzo’s waist.

“You’re not going to wear that sweater the rest of the night,” Hanzo said when he drew back. “I cannot even look at you.”

“Alright, alright,” Jesse said. “Don’t worry, I figured you’d say that so I wore something nice underneath it.”

Jesse stepped back and grabbed the hem of his sweater and peeled it off over his head, tossing it aside. Underneath, he wore a green shirt with the exact same snowman and moon design on it. Hanzo let out a frustrated groan and Jesse grinned at him, hair sticking out in a static fuzz around his head.

“I’m going to burn your entire closet,” Hanzo said. “We’ll just start over. It’s the only way to be safe.”

“Alright, well, we can discuss arson later,” Jesse said. “What’s the plan for tonight? You didn’t say nothing.”

“We’re going to have dinner. Don’t you have dinner on Christmas?” Hanzo asked, walking from the kitchen.

“Well, yeah, of course. I just didn’t think you really celebrated,” Jesse said as he followed. He paused in confusion as he spied the meal Hanzo had set out on the table. “Er, is this dinner?”

Sitting in the center of the table was a plate piled high with fried chicken. Hanzo had set out a few other side dishes around it, but Jesse found himself unable to look away from the surprising centerpiece. Hanzo looked confused as he sat down in his chair.

“Of course this is dinner,” he said, motioning for Jesse to join him. “What else would it be?”

Jesse sat, looking across the food at Hanzo. “I mean, yeah, fair point. It’s just not really what I was expecting. Fried chicken?”

“It’s a tradition,” Hanzo said as he began to serve himself.

“In your family?” Jesse asked, nabbing a chicken thigh.

“No, in Japan,” Hanzo clarified. “You eat fried chicken and spend time with your loved one. Nice and simple and sweet.”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to complain. Sounds like a good tradition to me,” Jesse said with a grin.

Hanzo smiled back at him, tight and tense at first but relaxing when he realized Jesse wasn’t teasing him. “Thank you for joining me. I do appreciate it it.”

Jesse inclined his head in reply. The two picked up their chicken, taking bites almost simultaneously. Their expressions slipped from pleased to confusion and then to troubled. Hanzo put his chicken back on his plate, folding his hands in front of him with his elbows on the table. He chewed slowly and swallowed with effort. Jesse simply sat in stunned silence before he made himself chew.

“This is the worst chicken I have ever eaten in my life,” Hanzo said dejectedly.

“It’s not _that_ bad, right? We can still try,” Jesse said before he dropped his food back onto his plate. “No, you’re right. This is...where did you get this?”

“I found a small restaurant in one of those strip areas. It was the only one open,” Hanzo said with a sigh, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “I did not expect everything to be closed. I forgot that’s how it works here.”

Jesse sighed and leaned back in his chair, watching as Hanzo nudged his food around his plate. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Hanzo so crestfallen over something so mundane as bad food. Jesse scratched his cheek a moment.

“Tell you what,” he said finally. “I got an idea that might make it better.”

“All new food?” Hanzo asked.

Jesse shook his head. “No, I mean, something that’ll make this better.”

“Cutting out my tongue?”

Jesse snorted a laugh. “A bit extreme. Plus, I like your tongue. You do some nice things with it.”

“You are terrible,” Hanzo scoffed, his cheeks going a light pink. “Can you think of something other than that while we’re together?”

“I can try, but it’s tough,” Jesse teased. “Go open that present I left in the kitchen.”

Hanzo stood and disappeared into the kitchen. He listened as Hanzo tore open the gift, a short laugh following when he had opened it. Cabinets opened and there was the clink of glass before Hanzo returned with two bottles and a pair of glasses. He set the glasses down and held the bottles in either hand.

“I am surprised, Jesse. This is actually surprisingly good sake,” Hanzo said, holding up one bottle.

“Yeah? I’m glad. Won’t deny I got a bit of help on that one,” Jesse said with a smile.

“This one, on the other hand,” Hanzo said, motioning with the other bottle. “This is the equivalent of paint thinner.”

“That one was definitely all me,” Jesse said, laughing.

“Start with the good then,” Hanzo said, pouring them each a glass from the good bottle. “And finish with the paint thinner.”

“See, I knew you’d get it,” Jesse said. “Bet that chicken’ll taste pretty good in about an hour.”

Hanzo moved his chair closer to Jesse’s, passing over the glass. They both raised their glasses to each other before sipping the strong drink. Hanzo let out a satisfied sigh as he leaned over, his shoulder against Jesse’s.

“You have some good ideas on occasion,” he said.

“A few,” Jesse conceded. “Dating you was the best one yet.”

“Well, for you. It remains to be seen if it was a good idea for me,” Hanzo teased, looking at Jesse with his dark eyes.

Jesse leaned in to kiss him, soft and sweet and lingering. He felt Hanzo’s lips curve up in a pleased smile. Of all of Hanzo’s smiles, those were Jesse’s favorites even though he never got to see them.

“Love you, darling,” he said softly, whispering the words against Hanzo’s lips.

Hanzo slid his arm around Jesse in response, pulling him in closer. Their kiss deepened, warmth rising across their skin that couldn’t be attributed to the alcohol just yet. Jesse set his glass down, plucking Hanzo’s from his fingers to set it on the table. He wrapped his arms tightly around his lover, forgetting everything else but the feel of him and the taste of his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first McHanzo piece ever! They were pretty fun. I just love writing sassy characters in love, really, and these two are pretty sassy. Or grumpy, in Hanzo's case.
> 
> Yes, Jesse's sweater is a reference to what you think.


	2. Christmas Ham

Jamison cracked his prosthetic hand against the concrete wall of the store, hoping to knock some of the frost loose from the joints. Flakes of it drifted down to the ground, lost in the snow. He was worried now that he’d have to take the whole thing apart and clean it out. Last time he did that, he was three fingers short when he put it back together. He flexed his fingers stiffly before tugging his jacket closer around his shoulders.

“Ain’t you cold, mate?” he asked, looking over at Roadhog.

The huge man just shrugged, thick shoulders moving ponderously. He still wore his harness with no shirt underneath despite the snow falling around them. Jamison hadn’t so much as seen him shiver the whole night, though.

“Right, well, it’s freezin’ out here. So let's do what we came out here to do and then go have ourselves a nice big fire,” Jamison said as he walked down the alley between the buildings.

Roadhog grunted. “What are we doing?”

“I told you already,” Jamison said, waving his hand dismissively over his shoulder.

“No, you didn’t.”

“No?” Jamison asked. He spun on his heel to face Roadhog, walking backwards. “Huh, well, alright. Coulda sworn I did though. Sure you ain’t just forgot?”

Roadhog made a low growling sound in the back of his throat.

“Right, right. Fine then,” Jamison muttered as he faced forward again. “Don’t need to be like that. Well, I figure since all these folks are off gettin’ drunk and fed and whatever else, we’ll rob a few of these shops and then head on our merry way.”

“It’s Christmas,” Roadhog said.

“Yeah, I know. That’s what’ll make this piss easy,” Jamison said with a giggle.

“It’s _Christmas_ ,” Roadhog said again, the words coming out low and harsh.

“What’s your point, mate? I already know what day it is,” Jamison said as he paused, peering around a corner onto the main street. “That’s the whole point after all.”

Roadhog reached out and grabbed Jamison by the back of his jacket, lifting him clean off his feet. He didn’t even make a noise of effort, the action as easy for him as lifting a doll. Jamison yelped in surprise, limbs flailing as he tried to get away. There was a ripping noise as his jacket began to tear, but Roadhog pressed his other hand against Jamison’s chest and pinned him against the alley wall, several feet off the ground.

“I ain’t robbing stores on Christmas,” Roadhog growled.

“What’s it to you?” Jamison asked, hands trying futilely to pull Roadhog’s off his torso. “No problem robbin’ ‘em any other day.”

Roadhog turned his head to the side, looking down. He didn’t let Jamison loose, but it was a gesture of confusion as he tried to search out the reason in his own head. His breath huffed loudly, echoing in his mask and exiting as clouds of mist.

“I don’t know,” he said finally, lowering Jamison back to his feet. “But we’re not doing it. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Jamison rubbed at his chest, a large red mark visible on his pale skin where his jacket was open. Several of the buttons had been torn away in the brief struggle. He’d bruise later, he was certain. He bruised rather easily, though.

“Fine, we won’t then. Waste though. All that cash just sittin’ around,” he said with a soft, longing sigh.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“What’re we gonna do all night then?” Jamison asked.

Roadhog didn’t answer. He simply set out down the street, walking determinedly to the south. Jamison inhaled sharply. They were still wanted fugitives and having a stroll down the street in the open wasn’t really something a criminal was supposed to do. Sure, they had done all their crimes in loud, violent, flagrant fashion, but that was different.

“Where we goin’?” he asked as he trotted quickly to catch up with his companion.

“I know a place,” Roadhog said and then fell silent.

For once, Jamison didn’t press. There was a tenseness in Roadhog’s posture that warned him off. Plus it was too cold to risk having his jacket torn off again. He clutched the front closed, following along in Roadhog’s wake as they walked through the city. A few cars passed, headlights shining over them, but no one stopped.

“Really? This is where you wanted to go?” Jamison said when they crossed into the parking lot.

Roadhog grunted. He had walked to a petting zoo he had learned was in the city. It wasn’t very big, mostly farm animals, and intended for small children on class trips. He took his hook off his back, smashing the big metal weapon into the chain on the front of the gate. It snapped under the assault and Roadhog pushed inside.

“What? Are we gonna steal some chickens or something?” Jamison asked. “What the hell’re we gonna do with chickens? Or a goat? Or anything here. I bet they ain’t even got any money or even any good souvenirs worth takin’.”

“Shut up,” Roadhog warned as he walked down the stone paths.

He paused in front of a small map sign with all the different areas labeled. Jamison peeked around his arm to look and sighed. He knew exactly where Roadhog was going. He didn’t say anything. There was no dissuading him. He simply followed as Roadhog began to walk again. He stopped in front of a green roofed building, all shuttered up against the weather. A paddock had been built to one side, but it was empty.

Roadhog grabbed the door to the building and nearly wrenched it off its hinges to open it. He squeezed inside, ducking through the doorway. Inside was warm and Jamison let out a sigh of relief. He looked around, spotted the heater, and promptly settled himself in front of it.

Roadhog ignored him. He walked over to a series of cages that sat against one wall. Inside, awake from all the noise of the breaking and entering, were a dozen piglets. They snorted and squealed quiet, shuffling around their pen and their still sleeping mother. Roadhog opened the cage and sat down on the concrete floor, one hand out.

The piglets kept their distant, uncertain what to make of the behemoth of a man in front of them. But Roadhog didn’t move. He sat still as a statue, silently waiting until one of them finally came over to sniff his hand. After a moment, he moved slowly to not spook the small animal and rubbed his fingertip against the piglet’s head. The animal snuffled and trotted around happily in a circle at the attention.

“You are so fuckin’ weird, mate,” Jamison said from his corner of the room, watching as the other piglets all gathered around Roadhog.

Roadhog pulled up his mask so it sat on top of his head. His back was to Jamison, who couldn’t see his face and didn’t particularly want to. Roadhog scooped up one of the piglets and held it up to his face, the tiny animal nuzzling at him.

“Happy Christmas, Jamison,” he said in a low voice.

Jamison snorted and shook his head, but couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, cheers. Happy Christmas, Mako.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roadhog is a violent, dangerous man but I like to think that deep down he still has some vestiges of who he was even if he doesn't recognize them or understand them.


	3. An Old Tradition

It took Satya a moment to realize that Sombra wasn’t walking beside her still. She had reached down to take Sombra’s hand, certain she would be exactly where she wasn’t. Satya came to a sudden stop, much to the irritation of the other people walking along the sidewalk. She ignored them and turned to look for her missing partner. She found Sombra standing behind a bench, staring across the street at a cathedral.

“Sombra?” she asked tentatively, lightly touching her fingertips to Sombra’s arm.

Sombra shook her head, leaning over closer into Satya’s arms. After a moment of hesitation, Satya slid her arm around Sombra’s shoulders and pulled her in closer. Sombra pressed her cheek to Satya’s shoulder.

They stood together silently, the pedestrians around them giving them a wide berth as they passed. Snow fell from the dark night sky, drifting down in small flakes that melted on Satya’s skin. The cathedral across from them glowed brightly from within, the windows a blaze of light that filtered through the rainbow of painted glass. Over the sound of the people around them and the traffic in the street, Satya could hear people singing.

“Do you ever think about everything you left behind?” Sombra asked finally, her voice low.

Satya frowned, turning her head to look at Sombra. “What do you mean?”

“Family, friends, your home,” Sombra said, still staring at the church. “You left behind a lot, right?”

“I suppose I did,” Satya conceded. “I don’t often think about that time of my life, though.”

“Not even your family?”

“I left them a long time ago,” Satya said. Her gloved fingers played along the sleeve of Sombra’s jacket. “And I know they are taken care of, so I do not worry about them.”

“They’re still your family,” Sombra said.

“Are they? When does blood cease to be the defining factor in which you determine family?” Satya asked. “If I have not spoken to them in decades, are they still the family I left?”

“Yes,” Sombra said.

Satya frowned in thought. There was something more to what Sombra was asking, but Satya couldn’t put her finger on it. She hated when people did this. They asked questions only tangentially related to what they wanted, expecting her to suss out what they really needed. She knew that people did this, but it didn’t make it any easier to figure out. With a sigh, she took Sombra’s hand and led her around to sit on the bench.

“There is something bothering you,” Satya said. “Tell me what it is.”

Sombra sat quietly for a long moment, long enough that Satya thought she wasn’t going to answer. Finally, she sighed and leaned in against Satya again. Her hand found Satya’s, clasping as best as she could through their gloves.

“I lost everything during the Crisis, all my family, my home,” Sombra said. “I know I’m not the only one.”

“Just because others have experienced tragedy does not mean you cannot be hurt by your own,” Satya said gently.

“No, I know that. But I try not to let it bother me,” Sombra continued. “It gets harder during this time of year, during the winter and Christmas. I just keep remembering all the fun and the time together.”

It was Satya’s turn to be silent. She looked down at Sombra, who sat with her eyes closed. Their breath fogged in the cold air, mingling together in a cloud of white. She tried to keep herself relaxed, but her body tensed on it’s own. Sombra felt it and gave Satya’s hand a squeeze.

“I’m sorry, mi alma,” Sombra said. She looked up at Satya and smiled thinly. “You don’t have to say anything, I know it’s difficult.”

Satya let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. “I want to help, though.”

“Just being here with me is helping,” Sombra said, trying to sound reassuring.

“If that were true, then you wouldn’t have gotten upset just now,” Satya said. She frowned in thought, a line creasing her forehead. “Is there anything you remember doing? A tradition?”

“All sorts of things,” Sombra said quietly, looking at the cathedral again. “If I was back home, there’d be so much happening. So much life and excitement. It’s so quiet here, so subdued.”

“I don’t think I can get you back home in time,” Satya said, patting Sombra lightly on the leg. “When you close your eyes and think back, what do you remember?”

Sombra closed her eyes. “The way the house was. It was full of people and light and warmth,” she said. “And the way it smelled. My mother cooking and baking, sweet and savory and spicy. I used to love sitting by the kitchen so I could smell everything she made.”

“What was your favorite thing she made?” Satya asked, pulling Sombra in closer.

“I was young, so the sweet things. The cake! I loved the cake she made,” Sombra said as she nestled in closer. “Volteado de piña. Ah, it’s this cake with pineapple on the bottom. It was my favorite.”

“We could try and make it ourselves,” Satya said slowly, carefully. 

She furrowed her brow as she looked at Sombra, afraid the suggestion might make things worse. Sombra blinked a few times before she sat upright. She looked at Satya for a moment, studying her face as if she thought she misheard.

“Have you ever baked before?” Sombra asked.

Satya frowned. “No, I haven’t.”

“Me neither.”

“But if we don’t try, we’ll never know,” Satya said. “We’ll get enough for a few tries. We’ll write it all down and that way we’ll be ready for next year too.”

“Already thinking that far ahead, hm?” Sombra said with a small, genuine smile.

“Should I not be? It’s always best to be prepared for future tasks like this,” Satya said.

“Yes, you’re right. It is,” Sombra said as she stood up. She held her hands out to help Satya up as well. “We also used to shoot off fireworks at midnight on Christmas Eve.”

“I’m not sure where we’ll find fireworks tonight,” Satya said as she stood. She paused before she smiled. “Oh, well, we can simply make our own fireworks.”

Sombra snickered at that. She looped her arm through Satya’s and began to walk down the street. Satya hesitated, confused, but let herself be led along. Her brow creased again.

“Why is that funny?” she asked. “I thought you’d like making fireworks with me--”

Sombra laughed harder.

“--and I can use my hard light projectors,” Satya continued. “What’s so funny?”

“I’ll explain when we get home,” Sombra said, stifling her laughter.

“You promise?” Satya said, relaxing.

“I promise, cariño,” Sombra said, giving Satya’s arm a squeeze. “And thank you, Satya.”


	4. History

Ana rapped her knuckles sharply on the door and listened in amusement to Reinhardt’s surprised exclamation on the other side. As his footsteps thumped loudly toward her, she adjusted the powder blue scarf over her hair and tugged the sleeves of her coat down straight. The door opened to reveal the great wall of a man, all broad chest and wide shoulders. He was wearing a red Christmas sweater trimmed with green, several reindeer on the front.

“Ana, my darling!” he nearly bellowed in excitement. “I didn’t think you would come.”

“Of course I would,” she said as she squeezed past.

She froze just inside the apartment, staring at the scene in front of her. A laugh bubbled up from her lips, leaving Reinhardt confused as he shut the door behind her. Every last inch of space in the already small room had been covered in decorations. A tree glowed brightly with lights, branches hanging heavy with ornaments. There were at least five wreaths that she could see. Fake candles dotted every flat surface, flickering realistically in the semi-dark of the room. Even the heater, positioned in front of the couch, had a display on it that made it look like a crackling fireplace. Stockings hung up on the wall over it. There were neatly wrapped presents stacked beneath the tree, all with perfectly tied bows on top.

“Reinhardt, it looks like one of those holiday cards exploded in here,” she said, trying to hold back another fit of giggles.

Reinhardt rubbed his hand against the back of his head, looking embarrassed. He hunched his shoulders and slouched down a bit closer to her, almost like he was trying to make himself smaller. It was a difficult feat for a man his size.

“I suppose I went a little overboard,” he said, smiling sheepishly through his beard. “It’s tradition, though.”

Ana patted him reassuringly on the hand. “I apologize, I shouldn’t laugh. It just surprised me. I guess I forgot how excited you got around this time.”

“Well, this is the first time in a few years I have gone all out,” he said as he walked over to the couch. He sank down onto it, the frame creaking ominously beneath him. “Finding the mood had become difficult.”

Ana frowned, feeling a twinge of guilt. She moved to sit next to him, perching with uncertainty on the edge of the couch. She glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. Reinhardt stared at a framed picture on the wall of himself dressed as Santa. Ana, Jack, and even Gabriel were dressed as helpers around him. Fareeha perched on his knee, beaming brightly as only a ten year old could.

“I had to explain to her who Santa was that year,” Ana said as she settled in closer to Reinhardt, leaning against his side. “I don’t know that she understood, but she was excited to see you all dressed up. The mention of presents helped, too.”

Reinhardt chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. “That was a good year. Things felt like they’d last forever.”

“We weren’t in a business known for stability, omre,” she said. 

She laid a hand on his knee and after a moment he hid it beneath his much larger one. She felt the callouses, the lines and roughness, the warmth of his skin. But his touch was as gentle as ever. Ana sighed softly, looping her other arm around his forearm. She leaned in and buried her face against his shoulder.

“I know. But that didn’t make it any easier to lose everything,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft.

Ana felt her heart break in her chest. She tightened her grip on his arm, but he pulled away from her, freeing himself. She opened her mouth to speak but before she could, he wrapped both arms around her and embraced her. Her words faltered, breath hitching in her chest. Tears stung at the corner of her eye. She pressed her face against his chest, his sweater soft against her skin.

“All of my friends,” he said in that same soft, low voice. “My family. You. I lost it all. For so long, it felt like I had nothing left. I did what I could, but how does a person carry on when they feel like they have no heart?”

Ana’s fingers clenched against Reinhardt’s sweater. “Albi, I am so sorry. I didn’t...I should have…”

Reinhardt’s arms tightened gently around her as her words failed her. The tears soaked into his sweater, thankfully hidden and unnoticed. She could feel him press gently against the cloth of her scarf, the scratch of his beard against her forehead. His warm, reassuring presence surrounded her completely as he cradled her in his arms.

“I do not blame you,” he said when he finally drew back.

“I blame me. You deserved better than what I did to you,” she said, keeping her head bowed. She didn’t trust herself to look at his face and keep her composure. “I let you think I was dead for so long.”

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. She blinked in surprise, reaching up almost on instinct to catch his cheeks in her hands. Before he could draw away, she turned her head and kissed him for the first time in too long. His hands returned to rest on her waist, holding her delicately, as if she were fragile. She was less dainty, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulder and kneeling on the edge of the couch to press up against him.

The kiss lingered for a long time, alternating between sweetness and passion. The ache in her chest vanished and when she broke away, she couldn’t keep the laugh from escaping. He looked at her a moment before joining in, his deep voice mixing with her softer one.

“Oh, goodness, I had forgotten what it was like to kiss like that,” she said as she leaned back in against him. “You know how to make a woman feel young.”

“Bah, you are young,” he said, ignoring her scoff. He wrapped an arm around her. “By the way, I got you a present.”

“You did not have to do that,” Ana said, looking up at him. “I didn’t get you anything. I didn’t really think about it until today and it was too late.”

“Liebling, you came back,” he said, smiling warmly. “What more in the world could I possibly want?”

Ana shook her head but smiled, enjoying the warmth welling up inside her. It was a nice change from the hurt and emptiness. It was familiar, a feeling that had been gone for far too long. She closed her eyes, nestling in close beneath Reinhardt’s arm. They settled in together, listening to the crackle of the fake fire and the low whine of the wind outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: You should write some cute Anahardt  
> Also me: Okay, but what if it was sad instead?


	5. A New Tradition

Zenyatta leaned in close, carefully eyeing the tiny plastic fir tree. He had one last miniature ornament clasped between his metal fingers. All of the others were carefully placed in a pattern, alternating pale blue, soft orange, and mint green in rings on the branches. This one was more important, however, and it needed to be in the perfect spot. He hummed in thought before placing the ornament, a tiny gray orb with a neon green _G_ painted on it, right front and center.

“Genji?” he called as he stepped back from the table. “Would you come here, please?”

There was the padding of bare feet across the wood floor, Genji purposefully walking heavily to make myself heard as he approached. He stopped behind Zenyatta, looking down at the two foot tall fake tree. His brow furrowed in curiosity, dark eyes glancing over the ornaments. His lips curled into a smile when he saw the _G_.

“What is this, Master?” he asked, leaning down for a closer look.

“Everyone is enjoying the holiday. But I noticed we did not have any decorations ourselves,” Zenyatta said, stepping aside so Genji could look. “I bought this so that you could celebrate as well.”

“Ah, that is very nice, but I don’t really celebrate this,” Genji said as he stood back up straight. Her rubbed a hand against his neck. “Back home, it was more about spending time with friends and partners, not like what they do here.”

Zenyatta looked at the tree for a moment before looking back at Genji with a sigh. “I apologize. I did not realize. I should have asked.”

“Oh, Master, it is fine! I promise,” Genji said quickly. “I think it is a nice decoration.”

“What should we do, then?” Zenyatta asked as he reached over, adjusting an ornament. “All of the others are busy today. That leaves just us.”

“I had not planned on anything, truthfully,” Genji said.

“No? That is too bad,” Zenyatta said. He tapped a finger to his chin with a metallic click. “I feel like we should not waste this day simply being quiet.”

“Then why don’t we have some fun?”” Genji asked. “Instead of meditation or training, we could do something a bit silly.”

Zenyatta cocked his head to the side. “What did you have in mind?”

“Ah, well, do not laugh, but Hana lent me a few of her games. Some easy ones since I’ve not played in so long,” Genji said.

“Oh? Like board games?”

Genji shook his head and smiled. “Video games. Come try, I have one I think you will enjoy.”

Zenyatta gave a hesitant nod before following Genjo to the couch. They settled down together, Genji turning on the television and game system. A few moments later, a logo popped up on the screen over a few cartoon characters racing around in go-karts. Genji handed one of the controllers to Zenyatta.

“That button makes you go forward, you steer with this joystick,” Genji explained, pointing them out. “That one lets you use items.”

“Items?” Zenyatta asked, puzzled.

“It will make sense when we play,” Genji said reassuringly. “Pick your character. Hit the go button to choose.”

Zenyatta hummed in thought, before selecting one. “I like the colors on this one. They are quite soothing.”

“A good choice, Master,” Genji said.

Characters chosen and course selected, the game switched over to split screen for the start of the race. A countdown beeped through the speakers before all the racers took off, tires comically squealing across the ground. All of the racers except for Zenyatta that was. He accelerated at a steady pace, not mashing his forward button. At the first turn, he slowed down to safely and gently go around it.

“You were right, Genji. This is most enjoyable,” he said cheerfully.

“I am glad, Master. Just be careful for--oh!” Genji started, wincing.

A missile suddenly appeared on Zenyatta’s screen, smashing into his racer and exploding. It sent his cart and character tumbling across the ground for a moment before he came to a halt. Genji looked over, ignoring his own racer, as Zenyatta sat in silence for a long moment.

“Did they shoot a missile at me?” he asked simply.

“Yes, I am afraid so, Master. That is one of the items you can use,” Genji explained.

“I see. And I can get them too?” Zenyatta said as he began to drive again.

“You can. Just hit one of those bubbles up ahead and it will give you something,” Genji said.

Zenyatta nodded, aiming his racer for one of the bubbles. “Excellent. Genji, will you please assist me in destroying whomever shot me with a missile?”

Genji burst out laughing so hard that he drove his own character off the course and into a lake. That only made him laugh harder, pressing the heel of his palm to his eye as his shoulders shook. When he could breath properly again, he resumed driving and nodded.

“Yes, Master, of course I will,” he said with a grin.

“Wonderful! You are a fine student, Genji,” Zenyatta said, cheerful as ever.

“I do what I can,” Genji said with a soft chuckle.

Zenyatta hit the item bubble, the game spinning up a random object for him to use. A blue-black splotch of oil appeared on his display. Zenyatta hit the button, his racer on the screen spurting the oil out of the back of his go-cart.

“Hm. That was not a missile as I had hoped,” he said.

“They won’t all be,” Genji said. “Try again on the next ones.”

The next item was a speed boost that sent Zenyatta’s racer careening off through the grass and narrowly avoiding falling in the same lake Genji had. The next was another pool of oil that he used quickly to be rid of it. Genji did his best to keep from laughing at Zenyatta’s various impatient noises. This was an Omnic who could sit in meditation for days on end but now that was lost in the competition of a go-kart video game.

“Ah, look! Missiles!” Zenyatta said happily when his fourth item bubble gave him what he wanted.

“Oh, those are good. They will target the drivers in the front,” Genji said with relief. He was the next driver ahead of Zenyatta and was glad not to be a target of his teacher’s ire.

“Most excellent,” Zenyatta said.

He hit the button, sending missiles careening across the track. Genji watches as they flew past his own driver and smashed into the track ahead of him. Several explosions sent the two front racers tumbling through the air. Zenyatta nodded, making a noise of approval.

“Yes, now do you see how it feels? I hope you have enjoyed this taste of your own medicine,” he proclaimed toward the television, voice as soothing and even as ever.

Genji nearly fell off the couch as another fit of laughter overtook him. His character swerved head first into a fence and stalled there while he covered his eyes with a hand. Next to him, Zenyatta chuckled along with his gales of laughter. Before he could recover, the lead drivers crossed the finish line and sealed Genji and Zenyatta to their fates in last and second-to-last place.

“Is it over?” Zenyatta asked.

“That race is, yes,” Genji said. “Do you want to try another one?”

“Oh, yes. Another pretty one, please. That one was lovely to look at while I fired missiles upon our foes,” Zenyatta said. “This was a good idea. We should do this every year, just you and I.”

“I think that sounds like a perfect idea, Master,” Genji said.


	6. Snowball

Jack and Gabriel stood shoulder to shoulder on the roof, both of them intent on their work. Gabriel was faster, gloved hands moving easily to shape the snow into hand sized orbs. He’d finish one and line it up on the edge of the wall in front of him. Jack shaped his slower, more carefully. He smoothed them off and packed them tight until they were the perfect density. He glanced at Gabriel and saw that he was smiling. The heavy scars and marks on his face made it almost a grimace, but Jack could see the way his eyes shone.

“Alright, so how many points are we looking at?” Jack asked.

Gabriel tossed a snowball between his hands. “First to two hundred? Standard point rules.”

“It’s been too long,” Jack said. “Ten points for a big target, twenty for a small?”

“And fifty for Lena,” Gabriel added.

“Right,” Jack said with a nod. “Now we just wait.”

Gabriel reached into his jacket and pulled out a flask. He unscrewed the top and took a quick drink before passing it to Jack, who hesitated a moment. When he took it and drank, it burned his lips and tongue and seared a path down his throat. It hit his stomach like molten metal before the heat began to spread through his limbs. He gave a small grimace and shudder, which made Gabriel laugh.

“Thought you’d be tougher by now, Morrison,” Gabriel said with a smirk.

“Why don’t you blow it out your ass, Reyes?” Jack shot back before he took another drink.

Gabriel laughed loudly at that, his face twisting until it looked almost painful. Jack smiled back, but it was thin and slightly forced. Looking at what had happened to Gabe always hurt, a low ache deep in Jack’s chest. He had been so handsome before everything.

“Was hoping we’d see someone by now,” Gabe said when he stopped laughing. His voice was a low, rough growl from his scarred throat.

“Don’t know that anyone’s gonna be as stupid as us to come out here,” Jack said. He leaned forward, peering down toward the courtyard in front of the apartments.

Gabriel snorted. “Probably all too busy fucking in front of heaters like sane people.”

“We could be too, you know,” Jack said, glancing at Gabe out of the corner of his eye.

Gabriel chuckled and reached over to Jack. Jack held out the flask, but Gabe ignored it. His hand rested on top of Jack’s arm, squeezing gently. He looked out across the courtyard and street, exhaling slowly. His breath came out in a mix of white mist and black smoke, twisting around his head. As the mist vanished, the smoke curled back and vanished down the collar of Gabe’s jacket.

“Remember doing this at the base?” Gabe asked.

“Which year?” Jack said as he shifted closer to Gabe.

“The year we panicked McCree. Told him there was an emergency and got him to run out in the snow in his underwear,” Gabe said with a wistful sigh.

“Yeah, I led him out and you were standing over the door with that great big snowball,” Jack said, lips twisting into a smirk. “Smashed it right on his head. Damn thing was a boulder, not a ball.”

“The look on his face!” Gabriel said with a bark of laughter. “Didn’t it knock his boxers off?”

Jack snorted out his laughter, leaning his shoulder against Gabe’s. “I forgot about that! Ana was standing right there too! He stammered something about it being cold, couldn’t judge him because of that.”

“Then he ran bare assed back inside! I heard from Ziegler that he went the wrong way and ended up in the messhall,” Gabe said, roaring with laughter. He bent forward, accidentally knocking two of his snowballs down to the ground.

“Speaking of Ziegler, remember that time you popped her with a snowball while she was drinking her coffee?” Jack asked.

“Me? That was you!” Gabe said, pretending to look offended.

“No, it was definitely you. You just let me take the blame. I remember you laughing like a damn hyena while she chased me down,” Jack said with a huff. He laid his hand over Gabriel’s.

“Those were good times,” Gabe said.

“Yeah, back before…”

Gabriel didn’t answer as Jack trailed off. The silence spun out between them, tenseness lining their bodies. Jack held gently to Gabe’s hand, hoping he wouldn’t let go but unable to say anything. Gabe held to Jack’s arm, not wanting to let go but unsure if he should stay. Jack opened his mouth to speak but stopped as they heard a door opening below them.

Leaning carefully out, trying not to be seen, the pair saw the huge bulk of Reinhardt moving down the steps. When he reached the bottom, he turned and held out a hand to help Ana down. Jack looked at Gabe who began to grin.

“I know what you’re thinking and it’s a death sentence,” Jack warned.

“Maybe, but you only live twice, Jack,” Gabe said with a snicker.

“Do you remember the last time you hit her with a snowball?” Jack said, eyebrow raised.

“No, actually, I don’t even remember hitting her,” Gabe said with a frown.

“That’s because she sleep darted you and dragged you off,” Jack said. “We found you two hours later tied up in a janitor’s closet.”

“I think we can get her this time. She’s old,” Gabe said.

“So are we,” Jack reminded him.

“Well, she can’t catch us both.”

Jack snorted. “Wait, when did I become part of this?”

“You’ve always been part of it,” Gabriel said. He removed his hand from Jack’s arm and began to test the weight of his snowballs. “Besides, if she sees you up here with me, you’re in trouble anyway.

Jack sighed softly and shook his head. “Alright. Whoever escapes to tell the tale wins and says the eulogy at the loser’s funeral.”

“Deal,” Gabe said. “And, Jack, if I don’t see you again...Merry Christmas.”

Jack smiled. He leaned over before Gabriel could react and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. They were rough but warm and familiar. Gabe tensed a moment before returning the affection, fingers brushing against Gabe’s chest. Jack drew back and picked up a snowball.

“On three,” he said, looking down and taking aim. Ana’s small figure stood bundled up in a heavy coat several stories down. “One, two, three!”

Both men chucked their snowballs down just as Ana looked up and saw them. They briefly saw her eye grow huge in surprise as she saw, too late, the attack. Neither Jack nor Gabe waited to see if they struck. Both had turned, tearing their way across the snowy rooftop for the stair way. Jack could hear Gabe cackling, a happy and exhilarated sound, as they both tried to escape and it made him smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ana caught them bought. No one escapes Ana.


	7. Christmas Sweater

Lena paused in the doorway to strike a pose. She put her fists against her hips, staring across the room dramatically with a set jaw and narrowed eyes. She made sure to stand still long enough for Amélie to get a nice, long look at her festive sweater. As soon as Amélie let out a disgusted groan, the effect broke and Lena dissolved into giggles.

“I thought I threw that thing away,” Amélie said, a note of distress in her voice.

The “thing” was Lena’s favorite, glorious holiday sweater. It was bright, neon green for no apparent reason instead of the usual dark forest green associated with Christmas. On the front was a large wall-eyed snowman who was wishing everyone a frosty fun Christmas in big block letters over his bright blue hat. That would have been bad enough, but Lena had taken the liberty of sprucing it up. She’d added sequence that shimmered each time she moved. There were nearly three dozen puffballs tacked onto it with no real care for order or symmetry. It was also huge on her, hanging almost to her knees. Her arms were completely lost in the sleeves.

“With something this magnificent, love, you always have a backup plan,” Lena said as she walked over to the couch.

Amélie stretched her legs out to block her from sitting, but Lena simply hopped up and straddled Amélie’s thighs. Refusing to look at the abomination of a sweater, Amélie instead pulled the blanket tighter around herself and stared over at the small Christmas tree they’d set up in the corner.

“You picked it out of the trash,” Amélie accused.

“Or maybe I just made another one,” Lena said with a grin.

“No god would allow two of those horrid things to exist on one planet,” Amélie said with a huff.

“Now, now, that’s not a nice thing to say on Christmas Eve,” Lena chided. She rocked herself back and forth over Amélie’s lap for a moment. “C’mon, I’m cold. Let me under the blanket.”

Amélie looked at her finally, a brow raised. “How are you cold? You look like you are wearing a knitted tent.”

“My feet’re cold,” Lena said, looking as miserable as she was able. She quivered her lip at Amélie before glancing back to her barefeet, toes wiggling for emphasis.

“Not my fault you forgot to put on socks,” Amélie said.

“You know,” Lena said slowly, “if you let me under the blanket, you won’t have to see the sweater anymore.”

Amélie paused for a moment in thought. Finally she threw back the blanket and shifted her position, letting Lena sit properly on the couch. A minute of maneuvering and the pair finally settled in together. Amélie leaned into the corner of the couch and Lena nestled in against her, curled up close. Her toes wiggled again in the warmth of the blanket, brushing against Amélie’s leg.

“Ah! Your feet are freezing, Lena,” Amélie hissed, tensing at the touch.

“How can you tell?” Lena asked, blinking in confusion.

“I’m cold, not dead. If someone touches me with ice like you just did, I still _feel_ it,” Amélie muttered.

“Poor Amélie,” Lena said, leaning back closer. She tilted her head up to nuzzle underneath Amélie’s jaw. “They’ll be warm soon, promise.”

Amélie didn’t respond, but she slid her arm around Lena and held her closer. They sat quietly together, listening to the sounds of the world around them. The wind blew outside, plastering a new layer of snow down on the building. The heater hummed behind them as it oscillated slowly back and forth. The apartments around them were alive with noise, laughter and voices. They’d been invited to a few of the gatherings but decided it was best to have their first Christmas alone.

“You’ll never guess what I got you for your present,” Lena said, sounding particularly pleased with herself.

“A matching hideous sweater,” Amélie said in a monotone.

Lena blinked in surprise and sat upright, turning to look back at Amélie. “You peeked!” she said, shocked. She was crestfallen, her eyes large and her brow drawn together in the middle.

“What? No, I did not look,” Amélie said, her voice quiet. She reached out to gently pull Lena back into an embrace. “I am sorry, souris. I just said that as a joke, a guess. I did not know you had gotten me a sweater.”

Lena let herself be pulled into the hug, her shoulders slumped. She sighed after a moment and laid her cheek against Amélie’s collarbone.

“I spent a lot of time picking it out,” Lena said softly.

“I know you did. I’m sure I will hate it too,” Amélie agreed as she brushed her hand through Lena’s hair.

“You will. It’s so bad,” Lena said, unable to hold back a small giggle. “I bet you’ll wear it.”

Amélie didn’t respond and she didn’t need to. They both knew she’d wear it. Lena sighed again as she shifted back to her original position, settling in close against Amélie. Amélie’s arms looped over and around Lena’s shoulders. The fingers of her left hand played along the chronal necklace Lena wore, foregoing her heavy harness.

“I got you other stuff too,” Lena said.

“I know, I saw all the parcels,” Amélie said with a soft hum.

Lena giggled again. “I got something for you tonight too. A little surprise.”

“Oh?” Amélie said, turning her full attention back to Lena. “What is that?”

Lena looked up at her, a cheshire smile on her lips. “I’m not wearing anything under the sweater.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this about two weeks before the reveal of Emily. I only mention this because I don't want this to be seen as backlash against that character. These drabbles and all of my Widowtracer work are and always have been AU.
> 
> I like Emily and I may write something with her soon, if I get the chance. Having said that, I still do love these two.


	8. Ribbon

Mei sat bundled up on the couch and read her book. She certainly was no stranger to the cold, but she was far happier cocooned in blankets and sweaters and thick socks. Nothing was worse than cold toes. It had been quiet most of the day. Neither she nor Zarya had much interest in celebrating and the others had all been preoccupied with their own traditions. Zarya had done her usual morning routine, going for her run and working out in the courtyard despite the snow.

Her face had been flushed bright red, hair and clothes soaked through with sweat and snow. She had playfully threatened to curl up under Mei’s blanket with her, sweaty and dirty as she was. Mei had just barely fended her off with promises of kisses if she went to shower. Mei could hear the soft, steady sound of the shower from the bedroom along with the occasional snippet of a song in Russian.

Mei looked up from her book when she heard the shower stop. Zarya stepped heavily as she moved through the bathroom and into the bedroom. Peeking not so subtly, Mei caught a glimpse of pale skin, dark tattoos, and fluffy pink hair as Zarya stepped past the doorway. 

“Is that the book I bought you?” Zarya called from the other room.

Mei jumped, cheeks flushing. She felt like she had been caught peeping. “Huh? Oh, yes! It is. It is a very good book, I am enjoying it.”

“As soon as I saw the cover, I thought of you,” Zarya said, her voice muffled. There was a grunt of effort. “I worried you had already read it.”

Mei slipped her bookmark between the pages and closed the book. She ran her fingers over the cover with a smile. There was a family of penguins on the front, chicks little more than balls of fluff.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Mei said. “There are so many books I have to read. A lot of time to catch up on. And a lot of books I lost.”

“That is good,” Zarya said from the bedroom. “I got you something special while I was out.”

Mei cocked her head to the side. She hadn’t noticed Zarya bringing anything home with her. She pushed herself up, worming out from under her blankets until she was sitting more upright on the couch.

“Oh? What did you get me?” Mei asked, a broad smile on her lips.

“You have to close your eyes,” Zarya said, her voice closer to the doorway.

“Okay!” Mei said brightly. She closed her eyes behind her glasses, her hands kneading at the blanket on her lap.

“Are they closed?” Zarya asked.

Mei nodded. “They are, promise.”

Zarya stepped into the living room, bare feet padding across the wood floor. Mei felt fingers brush through her hair and down around her neck, eliciting a soft sound of pleasure. She tilted her head to try and keep the caress for as long as possibly. Zarya’s hand dropped away and she stepped back.

“Alright, you can look now,” Zarya said.

Mei opened her eyes and inhaled sharply in surprise. Zarya stood nearly naked, wearing only her panties. The first thought that entered Mei’s head was wondering how cold Zarya must be before she started to take in the sight before her. Zarya had taken a bright red ribbon and tied it across her breasts, covering her nipples. She stood with her hands on her hips, pushing her chest outward to emphasize the big bow that sat there.

Mei let her eyes wander slowly. Zarya’s hair was stuck up in bright pink spikes, still partly damp. She was grinning broadly, eyes sparkling playfully. Mei sometimes forgot just how muscular, how big Zarya was. Or maybe it was often just unbelievable until she got a good look again. Her thick arms and legs were crisscrossed with white scars. Her middle thick and looked squishy with fat but Mei knew she was as solid as steel.

“Well? What do you think?” Zarya asked, leaning forward to show off her large breasts.

“Oh, goodness,” Mei said softly, exhaling a breath she had been holding. “This is a perfect gift.”

“Good,” Zarya said, as she turned and walked back to the bedroom. She paused in the doorway. “Would you like to unwrap your present now or tomorrow?”

Mei scrambled to unearth herself from beneath her blankets, tossing them on the floor in her haste. She followed after Zarya, pressing a hand to her lover’s back and pushing gently but insistently into the bedroom.

“Is that really a question?” she asked. “Now, please!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked these two in theory but I couldn't make it click in concept.


	9. Relax

Hana lay sprawled out on the couch, one leg draped over the back and the other dangling over the edge. It had been so unbearably hot in Lúcio’s apartment that she’d taken to wearing a pair of pyjama shorts and a tanktop unless she had to leave. Even then, it was still very, very warm. She sighed softly, not unhappily, and watched the lights flicker across the ceiling. They pulsed and shifted in time with the music that was always playing in the apartment, sometimes loudly but usually softly, in the background.

She blinked a few times, trying to clear away the fog in her head as Lúcio appeared over her. He held out a mug to her and was smiling cheerfully, but then he was always smiling that way. She took the cup and frowned when she felt how warm it was.

“You know, if it gets any hotter in here, I’m going to have to go outside and roll in the snow,” she said. She sniffed at the drink which smelled like wine and apples and cinnamon.

“I already turned the heat down,” he said as he sat down by her feet.

“Oh good. I was afraid I’d open all the windows while you weren’t looking,” Hana said as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. 

“Nah, I’ll just put a jacket on. Not used to this sort of cold,” he said, sipping his drink. “And I’m especially not used to the snow.”

“You’ve been all over the world. Have you never seen snow?” Hana asked. She took a tentative drink and felt like someone poured liquid heat down her chest.

“I’ve seen it, but stayed far away from it,” Lúcio said with a laugh.

“It’s not so bad,” Hana said. She pulled her legs underneath her, crossing them. “I always thought it was pretty. I’d rather deal with the snow than it be meltingly hot all the time.”

“It’s not! You say that, but I swear it isn’t that hot all the time,” Lúcio said. “You should come visit home with me so I can show you.”

Hana sighed into her cup. “You know I can’t.”

“You used to travel before, didn’t you?” Lúcio asked.

Hana took another drink from her mug. It was starting to feel less stifling in the room and the drink had cooled off enough. The cinnamon tingled in her mouth and throat, the alcohol quickly making her feel lighter after a few swallows. Her cheeks felt hot as she leaned back into the couch.

“For tournaments, yeah. A few times, but not as much as I wanted to,” she said. “I never really got to visit places, never got to look around. Just showed up, competed, and left, really.”

“That’s too bad. There are so many amazing places I’ve seen,” Lúcio said, watching her over the rim of his mug. “I’d love to take you with me on my next tour.”

Hana laughed softly. “I’d go if I could. I’d be amazing. Can you imagine? Lúcio and D.Va, on stage!”

“We’d pack every stadium we even got near,” Lúcio mused. “You could control the display while I handled the music. I bet you’d be able to keep up better than my tech. We could improv like crazy, put on a unique show every night.”

“That would be killer on my livestreams,” Hana said with a wistful sigh.

“We should do it.”

Hana shook her head. “Maybe someday, but not until my home is safe. I cannot be on the other side of the world if the omnic attacks.”

“It’ll be done one day,” Lúcio said. He stood up and walked over to his elaborate music set up and began fiddling with it. “Then you’ll come with me. We’ll make it a comeback tour.”

Hana snorted as she draped herself back over the empty couch. She listened as Lúcio adjusted the music, feeling the pulse of it in her blood and bones. It crawled through her system, sending shivers across her skin. She closed her eyes and let the soft pulse of the lights that he had mounted along the edges of the ceiling throb through her eyelids. 

This was the best part of staying with Lúcio. The music wasn’t just something that played in the background with him. It weaved into the fabric of living, soothing and caressing as it went. It calmed Hana, made her forget the things she rarely could. She could forget the destruction and death while under the spell of Lúcio’s music.

“Don’t call it a comeback,” she said with a crooked smile. “I never left.”

“Damn right,” Lúcio said as he walked back over.

Hana cracked an eye open and looked up at him. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”

“No problem. I know how it is,” Lúcio said as he held a hand out to her. “I’m glad you could get away. Guess it doesn’t happen very often.”

“This is pretty much it for the year. Just sort of fell around this time,” Hana said as she slipped her hand into his.

Lúcio squeezed her hand affectionately but didn’t do more than that. They looked at each other for a few silent moments before Hana began to giggle. Lúcio snorted out a laugh before he yanked her up and off the couch, careful not to spill her drink.

“Thought you just were gonna sit there all weird and hold my hand,” Hana said teasingly.

“Nah, was just a good part in the song, didn’t wanna interrupt it,” Lúcio said with a wink. “You hungry? I am starving.”

“Probably because there’s no actual food in your house,” Hana said, patting her stomach as it growled noisily.

“I did before someone ate it all.”

“Those snacks? That was your food? No wonder you’re so tiny,” Hana said with a smirk.

Lúcio scoffed. “Tiny? You’re one to talk.”

“I’m compact. On the inside, I’m bigger than Reinhardt,” Hana explained, poking Lúcio in the shoulder.

“Oh, wait, I bet he’s got lots of food,” Lúcio said as he grabbed his coat. “Come on, let's go crash at his place for a bit.”

“Let me at least put pants on first,” Hana protested.

“Always something with you, huh?” Lúcio said, trying poorly not to grin at her.

“I’m going to push you outside and then lock the door. You’ll freeze in seconds.”

Lúcio laughed and shook his head. “Merry Christmas to you too, Hana.”

Hana paused, looking at him with a small smile. “Merry Christmas, Lúcio. And thanks again.”


	10. Snowman

Fareeha stood by the side of the apartment building, arms folded across her chest and shivering. She could still feel the cold biting at her skin through four shirts, two sweaters, and a jacket. She wore thick gloves, a hat down over her ears, a scarf, three pairs of socks, and heavy boots. She’d even managed to wear two pairs of pants, somehow. She wasn’t entirely sure how she was going to get out of them, but she’d managed to encase herself completely yet it was still cold.

Angela was still laughing. She’d laughed as she watched Fareeha dress, laughed as Fareeha waddled to the elevator, and nearly fallen on the icy sidewalk laughing when Fareeha yelped and tried to run back inside for cover. Fareeha had stayed to try and prove she could manage, but she was starting to think it was a terrible, terrible idea.

“Liebling, come help,” Angela called from where she was rolling up a big ball of snow in the grass. “It’s fun, I promise.”

“My legs are frozen,” Fareeha said. “This is where I die. Not on the battlefield, not saving people, but because I froze to death while you build a snowman.”

“Your legs are not frozen,” Angela said, trying to hold back her laughter. “You’re wearing your entire closet. How are you still cold?”

“My blood is thin. I was never meant for temperatures like this,” Fareeha complained.

Angela sighed and gave up her work on the snowman, walking over to her lover. Unlike Fareeha, Angela was dressed much more comfortable: jeans and boots, her long winter coat that hung to her knees, a pair of gloves, and a thin scarf. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, leaving her face visible. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and the effort of rolling up the snow.

“Standing still isn’t helping,” she said to Fareeha, holding her hand out. “You need to get your blood pumping and then you’ll feel warmer. I promise. Come play with me. Last time we saw snow, we were working. I want to enjoy this with you for a change.”

Fareeha pursed her lips, looking away from Angela and scuffing her boot against the snowy ground. Finally, she moved her arm out stiffly, the joint in her prosthetic complaining against the cold. Her fingers were clumsy when she took Angela’s hand, but Angela just smiled and gripped back firmly. She gave a tug, pulling Fareeha out into the yard.

“Help me with this. I want to make a nice big snowman that even Reinhardt will be intimidated by,” Angela said as she guided Fareeha over to the big snowball.

“Intimidated? Are you planning some sort of snow-monster?” Fareeha asked. She put her hands against the snow and pushed, her prosthetic hand punching directly through it.

Angela giggled softly. “That’s okay. Just need to be a bit gentler. And we’ll pack it harder this time,” she said, patting Fareeha’s elbow.

The pair began to work, packing the snow and rolling it into ridiculously large piles. Every time Fareeha thought they were finished, Angela decided it need to be bigger. By the time the second ball was finished, it was too large for either of them to lift. Fareeha found a loose plank of wood and positioned it as a ramp, rolling the torso up onto the snowman base. Fareeha sweat beneath her numerous layers of clothes, soaking through the shirts and into her sweaters.

They stopped to admire their work, the semi-complete snowman just an inch or two shorter than Fareeha herself. Angela grinned proudly and immediately began to search out a fresh patch of snow to pillage for her masterpiece. Fareeha leaned against their sculpture, forgetting the cold for a moment as she tried to catch her breath and cooldown. By the time Angela was calling her over, the bitter chill had begun to seep back in.

“This is the last one, right?” she asked Angela.

“Well, I guess. Mostly because neither of us is going to be able to add more. It’s too tall,” Angela said, laughing breathily as she started rolling up the snow. “It’s too much snowman! I’ve created a monster.”

“My wife the mad snow scientist,” Fareeha teased.

Angela froze, turning her surprised gaze on Fareeha. “Wife?”

Fareeha felt the blood rush out of her face, the cold suddenly a thousand times worse than it had been. She stood up quickly, hands held out in front of her almost defensively. Angela stood to look at her, brushing snow from her arms.

“I uh, it was a, I misspoke,” Fareeha stammered, her amber colored eyes wide and round. “I meant my girlfriend. It slipped. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve thought about this before then?” Angela pressed, taking a step closer to Fareeha.

Fareeha opened her mouth but her voice caught in her throat and she squeaked out a sound like someone had kicked a frog. Her shoulders slumped, head hanging as she dropped her gaze from Angela. Her hands moved at her side, fingers trying to grasp at intangible words.

“Yes,” she finally said, softly and simply. “I have. I know it hasn’t been that long, but I can’t help it.”

Angela didn’t say anything, looking at Fareeha for an excruciatingly long moment. Finally, she leaned over and kissed Fareeha on the cheek, her lips warm. Fareeha felt heat return to her face as she blushed. Angela stepped back over to finish rolling up the head for their snowman.

“We’re almost done,” she said. “Then we can go inside and I’ll make you the best hot chocolate you’ve ever had.”

Fareeha let out a breath as she made herself relax. “The best, huh?” “I’m Swiss. If there’s one thing we know, it’s chocolate,” Angela said with a grin.

They finished rolling up the snow and struggled to put the heavy ball up on top of their too tall snowman. By the time they managed, Fareeha had tossed away her scarf and jacket, sweat drenching her shirts. The snowman stood taller than both of them, lopsided and unstable looking, but intact. Fareeha held Angela around the waist, lifting her up high enough for her to give their monstrosity a face. It didn’t smile in a friendly manner, Angela made sure of that. It smirked threateningly with prominent angry eyebrows. They dubbed it _Snowhardt_ and wrote the name on the plank of wood they had used as a ramp, laying it across the snowman’s chest.

“If we’re lucky, they’ll battle it out to determine who the greatest Reinhardt is,” Angela said, looking on their creation with pride.

“We can watch from our window,” Fareeha said, gathering up her discarded clothes. “Someone promised me hot chocolate.”

“I did, it’s true,” Angela said, following Fareeha to the front door. “And Fareeha? I love you.”

Fareeha blinked in surprise before she leaned over, kissing Angela on the forehead. “I love you too, ya hayati.”

“Even if I am your mad scientist wife?” Angela asked, the pink in her cheeks growing darker as she blushed.

“Especially if you are,” Fareeha said

She slipped an arm around Angela, hugging her in close as they walked inside. Fareeha felt a sudden rush of tingling warmth across her skin that she couldn’t entirely blame on the warm air indoors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the last one! The pairing that started all of this for me, so it seemed fitting to save them until the end. I hope everyone enjoyed these!
> 
> I would absolutely love if people left a comment telling me which was their favorite. So if you feel like it, please do that (anon comments are on) and if not? No worries! 
> 
> Thank you all for reading and leaving comments and kudos. Every one of them means a lot and I appreciate them all.


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